


Exile On Main St.

by Babygirl_Francesca



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Murder Investigations, Mystery, Slow Burn, sam and dean aren't related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babygirl_Francesca/pseuds/Babygirl_Francesca
Summary: Sam and Cas are trying to bust a new drug gang. Dean's desperately trying to get out of the very same gang. Maybe they can help each other?





	Exile On Main St.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I KNOW I have four other unfinished works and I shouldn't be starting a new multi-chapter fic :'( don't remind me  
-this fic will tackle heavy subject matter namely: drug use, child abuse/neglect (mentioned), blackmail, murder (no main characters). Ya know, police/gang shit.

"Hey Jo! Have a good Thanksgiving?" Sam asked on his way into work. He had two completely full drink carriers from Starbucks in his hands that he was trying to balance while swiping his badge to get into the locked doors of his floor of the precinct.

"Yeah it was great! Charlie came down from Oregon with her new girlfriend! Jody and Ellen were both bummed you couldn't make it." She said with her usual pretty smile, getting up from her seat to help Sam.

She took one of the trays of coffee from him and he finally got the door open. "Sorry, I was a little busy, I'll have to meet up with Charlie at some point though. One of those is for you, plain latte, right?" Everyone in the precinct was pretty close, they celebrated a lot of holidays with one another, Sam just wasn't one for crowds or festivities. Charlie was a favorite of theirs though, she'd been the IT person for a while at the precinct before she'd been offered a far better job in Portland. 

Jo found her drink and took it. "You know me too well Winchester. Hey I put a folder on your desk, it's a case that came up from vice, gang violence they said. Novak isn't in yet, of course, so I figured you'd want it."

_Of course Cas isn't in yet, _Sam thought with an imaginary eye roll. "Got it, see ya Jo." And then he walked into the large room, four spacious desks all faced the Lieutenant's office and forensics had its own rooms off to the side. Sam was used to this place, homicide never changed, not even the people- and he'd been here for almost ten years.

The only new things they'd gotten in ten years was a coffee maker, a new chair for Garth, Jack Kline, and Jo, other than that Sam lived an incredibly consistent life.

You never really knew what you were going to see working homicide of course, but Sam didn't think any murder could phase him at this point.

"Sam! Coffees again?" Jack said from his desk, eyeing the drinks in his hands. He already had a large coffee on his desk, but if Sam knew anything about Jack, he would never say no to more coffee.

Sam set the carriers down on his desk and handed Jack his. "I like to keep you guys on my good side." Jack rose her paper cup to that in a mock cheers.

"Thanks Sam." Garth grabbed his, he was always early and always stayed late. It often made Sam wonder about his home life, Sam had never known the guy to have a serious girlfriend.

Sam gave Sergeant Harvelle her coffee next, then Lieutenant Mills hers, he set Castie's on his desk, and then made his way to Kevin's office, shoved back in the forensic labs.

"Hey Kevin, got you a tea!" Sam called, swinging into the office without knocking. Of course Kevin had some gory crime scene photos open on his computer right at that moment.

"Ah, Winchester, have you had a chance to look at your new case? The gang killing?" Kevin asked immediately and effortlessly as he took his coffee and then swiveled in his chair to look back at the screen.

"No, just got here. Why? Something weird about it?" Sam walked further into the room, hearing the weighted door fall shut behind him. "Gang murders are usually easy cases." He said, a little too confident in that answer.

"Well I can assure you that this is _not _an easy case. Come take a look at these photos."

Sam leaned over Kevin's chair. The screen showed a Hispanic man, looked like a gunshot to the chest, surrounded by a pool of blood. "I don't see anything unusual, how'd they know it was gang violence?" He questioned, usually gangs left something behind, tagged their victims to scare off other gangs.

Kevin clicked on his computer and then another photo showed, this time the man was shirtless and a word was carved into his stomach, '_Lilith._' "Huh, I'm not familiar with that gang, was this guy packing drugs or anything?"

"His name was Juan Morales, now I searched through every database to find information on him but he's clean as a whistle. He had one parking violation in 2006, two kids, and a wife. She's clean too, for an extra measure, I also searched the kids, his parents, his siblings, everyone related to one _Juan Morales _and nothing came back. Best I could find was that he lived in a less than wealthy neighborhood, but that's not exactly a fixing for getting murdered." Kevin explained in his typical impassioned voice. 

"And that's the killing wound? Gun shot? What is that, point blank range with a 9 mil?" Sam questioned, leaning in even further to look at the wound that he could see. It was a small entrance, bit of a star shape around the edges, but definitely no bigger than a 9 millimeter.

"No, _this _was what killed him, not sure what the gun was for." Kevin clicked to another picture of the man from behind and Sam could see that a stake had been driven through his heart.

"Now that's weird. Why kill him silently if you're just going to shoot him afterwards, and you're _sure _that the knife came first?" Sam took over Kevin's mouse to enlarge the photo onto the back of his neck, that's definitely the most efficient way to kill someone with a knife.

"Absolutely sure, I'd put the gunshot 2 hours posthumous, I know you don't care about specifics, but the blood didn't pool correctly for it to be a shot in a live person."

"Alright, thanks Kevin, I'll get on this. When will I have your report?" Sam stood up from being bent over the desk and took a step towards the door.

"Give me an hour and you'll have it."

Sam nodded to Kevin and left the room. Castiel was sitting at his desk now, just a few minutes late, but he always was.

"Hey Cas, weird case." Sam waved the folder that was on his desk at him and explained what Kevin had told him.

The case seemed cut and dry if it weren't for the few odd things. Gun shot, typical of a gang, and a knife, also typical of a gang. Using a dead body for target practice? Not typical of a gang.

Sam also didn't know the name _Lilith _and he knew most of the gangs around this area: The Surenos, Bloods, Latin Kings, the list went on. Lilith could just be a drug gang that got involved with something more sinister, they never saw strictly drug cases up here.

"I got an email from Jo saying that Juan's wife will be coming in later so we can talk to her. Maybe she knows something. I just don't really understand why they would feel the need to carve their name into the body?"

"Paralipsis." A voice came from in front of them and they both looked up from the file at the same time to see Captain Bobby Singer standing in front of them. They were both a little taken aback as Captain Singer rarely visited homicide. They produced the best numbers of all the Los Angeles zones, he rarely bothered with them.

They both gave her a questioning look, unsure of what she meant.

"It's a rhetorical device, anticipating an objection before it comes and answering it. As Marc Antony said in Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar: '_have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it.' _Lilith _is worried that neighboring gangs think they're not tough enough, so they wanted to make a point." He explained.

"I've never even heard of Lilith." Cas stated bluntly. Sam hadn't either, the name didn't ring a single bell in his mind.

"I hadn't either before this morning. Juan Morales' wife taught my wife piano years ago so I did a little digging into who killed him. I found some files in Narcotics that you two might be interested in and highlighted a couple of names of people to question."

Sam was pretty surprised that Captain Signer had taken a special interest in their case. "Uh, thank you Captain, we'll get right on this." He answered for him and his partner.

"You best, from what I've read, these aren't people to take lightly." He finished rather ominously before walking away from them.

Sam dropped the thin folder on his desk and looked up at Castiel with a look of chagrin on his face. "This is not what I expected for a Monday morning." He sighed.

"I'll pull up a chair." Castiel said and rolled his over to Sam's desk so they could start looking through what Singer had given to them.

"Do you also find it weird that he came to talk to us? I mean, I've been here twelve years and I've had... Three conversations with him? And two of them were about the food truck out front." Cas mused and Sam nodded as he handed him one of three files in the folder Bobby had given them.

"You're right, I remember when we investigated his sisters husbands murder, Bobby didn't even talk to us about that. He must have a weird feeling about this." Sam said with a shrug and focused on what he was reading.

_Daniel Ortega  
__Taken in for questioning on 11/2/2016_  
Interview transcript.

"He's probably fucking picking on us. I mean, we solve six cases in a row, perps behind bars, new precinct record, and _now _we're given a case that the Captain has special interest in? Watch we're not even going to get one lead." Cas complained.

"Hey, didn't you bring in Daniel Ortega like a month ago for vehicular manslaughter?" Sam questioned, changing trains of thought.

Castiel leaned over to look at the name and the picture. "Yeah, real bright kid, he was definitely going places." He mused.

"For real?"

"No just taking the piss, he's a piece of shit. I think he set a new precinct record of how many times you can call Jo a cunt."

"What that girl goes through..."

_Off. Rosen: Daniel do you know why you're here?  
_ _Ortega: you fuckers think I'm some kind of druggie!  
_ _Off. Rosen: Did you, or did you not, come in here high on meth?_

Sam skipped forward a few lines, looking for any mention of the Hilltop.

_Off. Rosen: Now in your cellphone, you only had five contacts, one of them being Lilith, who are they?  
__Ortega: You checked my phone you fucking cunt?  
__Off. Rosen: We had a warrant, if you would like to see the paperwork I can get that. Now, can you answer the question?  
__Ortega: They're bad news.  
__Off. Rosen: Lilith?  
__Ortega: Real conyo suicio's if you know what I mean.  
__Off. Rosen: Are they a rival gang?  
__Ortega: No, fuck ese if they knew I was telling you this I'd be dead  
__Off. Rosen: Then who are they? We can only keep you safe from them if we know why they are._  
Ortega: They're organized, small, Latin Kings, we don't know very much about them but the guys above me? They seem real freaked out.  
Off. Rosen: How many men are above you?  
Ortega: Not just all of them, regular members like me? We don't know anything, guys running the deal? They're the ones scared.  
Off. Rosen: Why do you have them on your phone?  
Ortega: Manuel gave it to me, it's not my phone, it's a gang phone.

Sam stopped reading around there when Ortega was being questioned for the real crime he'd committed. Sam took a highlighter and went over the parts that seemed really important.

"Hey have you found anything?" Sam asked Cas, looking over her shoulder since he was still cramped up at his desk next to him.

"Yeah, this is weird, how could narcotics have not mentioned these guys to anyone? I've got a member of the A.B.G's saying not to mess with these guys. Nothing specific but _still! _Have you ever heard one of those guys sound scared?" He asked, pointing to the spot on the transcript where it said that.

"I mean it's _narcotics, _worse things have happened down there. But it is bothersome that we haven't heard of Hilltop. No gangs as hardened as these ones get messed up over some drug peddling, there has to be more murders these guys have done. Not just this Juan Morales guy."

Jo came over to them with a frail looking Hispanic woman behind her. "Hey guys this is Miranda Morales, Juan's wife." Jo introduced and both Sam and Castiel stood up.

"We're so sorry for you loss Miranda, thank you for coming in to talk to us. I'm Detective Novak, this is my partner Detective Winchester." Castiel shook her hand and then Sam did.

"Oh yes, thank you for listening to me." She said very sweetly and Castiel led them all down to an interview room. Sam sat on the other side of the two way glass and let Castiel talk to her first.

He was trying to mull over everything in his head. Sure there were gangs around Los Angeles that a homicide detective wouldn't know about, but a gang that was terrorizing some of the oldest and most prolific gangs? That was unheard of. Sam would think that every department would need to know about that, even internal fucking affairs. Sam would have to stop by and see if anyone working cold cases had come across Lilith before.

"So can you tell us about the last time you saw your husband?" Castiel asked after turning the recorder on and Sam angled his chair so that he could see Miranda's face clearly through the window.

"It was two days ago in the morning. He was going to work, he was a nurse and always got to work by nine sharp, but this day I remember clearly because he was running late. He never runs late, I always make sure he's on time because I'm back to wish him off after walking Eliza and Louis to school. It was a little after nine and he told me that he was getting a ride from a coworker, which was odd, he'd never done that before either. He told me that the hospital had started some incentive program for carpooling, but I just... Didn't believe it, you understand? It didn't seem like a lie, but it also didn't seem like the truth. A quarter after nine this woman shows up at the house who I have never seen before, she had brown hair and fair skin. Our neighborhood is almost entirely Latino so I was surprised, but she told me that she was a nurse as well and apologized for picking Juan up late, and then he went with her. I didn't see him after that." Miranda rambled off and Sam did think that the story sounded odd, so many things to go wrong in one day, just before he died? It was strange.

"Did you get that woman's name? Or ever see her again?" Castiel questioned.

"No, no, I never saw her again and I do not remember her name. She had brown hair and green eyes and was tall, taller than Juan I remember. I didn't even see her car."

"When did you file a missing persons report for Juan?" Castiel asked next and Sam thought about Miranda's answer for a moment. Brown hair and green eyes immediately brought up a _couple _of gangs, but that was very small evidence to start making conjectures about.

"As soon as he didn't come home from work and when the police would let me." She gave the obvious answer, Sam had seen the report in the file.

"Can you think of _any _reason that Juan may have been targeted?"

"Well, he's been acting a little strange for the past week. He would go out with friends more and be a little angrier with me than usual. I asked mi hijo and he said that he didn't notice anything different, it must have just been me. But Juan has always been so respectful of the law, you should have seen him when he got his first parking ticket," Miranda had to pause to dab at her eyes. "The only thing I can think is just his mood leading up to his... Disappearance."

"I see, thank you so much for answering our questions Miranda, we'll let you know if we need you to come in again. Once again, so sorry for your loss."

* * *

Dean was laying in a reclining chair with a long flat beer, watching the sun come around to its apex. It was almost noon, he hadn't even finished a beer, and the only movement he'd had for the day was walking from his room to the chair and sitting in it.

It was a good day so far.

His phone rang suddenly and he was pulled out of his lazy reverie as he scrambled to find it in the cushions of the chair.

"This is Dean." He answered, not wanting to have to talk to anyone for the day. Just one day, that's all he wanted. One day where he could sit in his chair and watch the sun, and then go to bed.

"It's Bela, listen we need you to come in. Benny didn't show up today so you're the next best. See ya." She didn't let him get a word in edgewise before simply hanging up the phone and leaving Jean to formulate a pissy response to no one. He didn't want to go in today just because his shitty friend didn't. Benny was probably on the street somewhere enjoying the delicacies of their own product, truly the weakest link.

However, Dean knew that he _had _to go in. They'd pulled off something big last night and he did want to know how it went. He hadn't been a part of it, he tried to steer clear of the stranger things that Lucifer told them to do, and pull his weight in other places.

So, he got up, pulled on his most inauspicious clothing and headed out the door with his messenger bag. He locked his apartment behind him and threw the keys into the front pocket of his bag along with his phone. He had a crumple of bills in his back pocket that he would use to buy lunch.

The street was bustling with activity, one of the perks of living near downtown was that Dean had a nice and soundproof apartment, but if he wanted to be immersed in activity he just had to walk down some stairs.

"Hey James, can I get my usual?" Dean found his favorite hot-dog vendors cart surprisingly devoid of life. He usually had to wait for upwards of fifteen minutes before putting in his order. Thankfully the line was short, there wasn't an exact time when he had to show up at headquarters, but he didn't want to take _too _long. Meg especially had a penchant for knowing where everyone lived and chastising them based off of how long it took them to get down there when called in.

"Anything for you Dean, coffee for a dollar extra?" The man asked as he passed Dean his food.

"Broadening your business horizons?" He asked with a slight chuckle. "Yeah why not, I'll take a coffee." He agreed and handed over his usual total plus one extra dollar before getting the piping hot and bland cup of coffee.

"See you around Wesson!"

And Dean was walking down the street, trying to avoid bumping into people even though that was kind of impossible.

"Dean _Wesson?_" He heard a voice from behind him and for a moment he was petrified with fear. Who the fuck would call him out by name like that. When he turned around however, it was a slightly familiar face.

"Hey! Charlie, man I haven't seen you in forever." Dean put on his charming and 'not anxious' voice. Not like he ever really wasn't anxious, he was just damn good at pretending.

He'd gone to high school with Charlie and the two had been frequent party buddies, one was always deemed the designated driver, until halfway through the night when they both just decided to get drunk anyway and sleep in a car. Happened almost every time. Dean hadn't seen Charlie in forever though, last he'd heard she was working for the police--a completely different path than Dean had gone down.

"Yeah no kidding," Charlie fell into step with Dean as they both walked in the same direction. "How crazy is it that I ran into you. I'm only in town for two weeks, I was spending Thanksgiving with some old coworkers." Charlie explained.

"Oh yeah, from the station? You don't work there anymore?" He questioned but at the same time didn't really want to talk about anyone from that particular precinct. Benny'd had far too many run-ins with Jody Mills back in the day. Not recently as the women had been promoted to Lieutenant of homicide, but back in the day Benny had almost set the records for most police questionings, even though they never really caught him on anything.

"Yeah! I moved up to Portland about a year ago, settled in with a girl. We're probably gonna get married." Charlie replied and Dean could almost feel the exuberance radiating off of her. He was glad his, perhaps oldest, friends was doing well and so excited about life.

"That's awesome dude! Can't say I can imagine the same chick who won 15-0 in beerpong our junior year as a dutiful wife but..." Dean let out a laugh and Charlie laughed too. It was easy to talk to Charlie, certainly more natural than any of his other 'friends.'

"I can only hope I've matured. How are things going for you man? Weren't you going to school for uh... I totally remember... Dance?" Charlie asked, it was an innocent question but it made Dean recoil a little bit.

_A lifetime ago, _he wanted to reply with, but this wasn't the time to tell Charlie his sob story that had more than a few illicit activities included in it. "I was, but I guess it just wasn't for me." He said with a shrug.

"That's sucks Dean, you used to be so passionate about it when we were kids. But I guess passions change." Charlie quirked her lips to the side a bit but didn't comment on it again.

"This is where I turn. Call me while you're still around?" Dean offered as they stopped on a street corner. He wanted to talk to Charlie again, if anything just to talk shit like they did in high school, but Dean desperately needed someone around him that wasn't part of Lilith for even a fucking hour.

"Of course! See ya dude."

Dean sucked in a deep breath as he walked away from Charlie, suddenly not hungry. He threw away his barely touched food and coffee and zipped his sweat shirt up. Something about seeing Charlie had made his nerves all tingly and his anxiety seriously flare up. Dean wondered for a brief moment if he was going to throw up, but then it passed and he shook his head a bit, getting rid of the fog that lay in it like a low, heavy miasma.

One block up was an elaborate looking law firm, two stories high, gold embellishments adorning it. An alley next to it is where he turned, walking between the law firm and a 7/11 towards a brick wall.

At the far end of the law firm where no lights illuminated the space between the two buildings was a set of steps that led down into the basement. His keys unlocked the decrepit door, but inside was anything but.

They're head quarters had a sleek, modern, and ridiculously expensive look to it. Dean never felt at home here, it was too medical, clean, hypoallergenic. Everything from the hardwood floors to the single fat cat that lazed around made Dean feel alienated.

"Dean's here." He heard a voice yell, it sounded like Rowena's.

Further into the building was a large living space where Bela was currently watching _CNN _while Meg slept on one of the couches. Rowena must have been watching the security cameras and him coming in.

"I'm here." Dean echoed and Bela looked up at him.

"Good, boss wants you to do a transport." She said.

"A _transport? _I never do those." He responded in trepidation, feeling his heart rate speed up at just the thought of it, _maybe I _am _going to throw up, _he thought to himself.

"Well Benny always does and he's gone, so you're next." She said with a shrug. Bela wasn't unkind, she just followed the boss' orders a little too closely and it got on Dean's nerves sometimes. She had no humanity, no ethics, just listened to what he told her.

"Why can't Meg do it? She loves shit like this." Dean pointed out.

Bela just pointed to her sleeping form and shrugged again.

He let out an annoyed sigh and walked further through the rooms. There was a hall with small bedrooms and at the end was an office with an always present _do not disturb _sign hanging on it.

Dean knocked twice.

"Come in."

He turned the knob and pushed in, greeted by Lucifer looking over a document, scribbling away with signatures and locations, and prices, and weights. Dean didn't care that much.

"I heard I'm doing a transport?" Dean closed the door behind himself and sat down in one of the chairs. The office had low lighting in it, the whole place had lighting that made it seem like a cave.

The back lighting behind Dean made his shadow ever present over Lucifer's form. _Lucifer, _it was such a stupid name. But no one knew what his real one was--Dean could almost believe that his birth name was Lucifer.

"Can you handle a transport?" Lucifer asked.

Everything Lucifer did, everything he asked, always threw Dean a fucking curve ball. _Is this a test? Or does he really want to know._

"I'm certainly not the best for the job, but I suppose I can." He responded, barely more than a mumble, worried that he might be making the wrong choice with his words.

"You're right. You're not the best for the job but I think you'll do fine. It's a couple balloons that I need you to take to the west side. It's six blocks from here, you pass just one precinct unless you want to go all the way around. It's a light job I think you'll be fine." Lucifer explained and set two tiny balloons on the table in front of them.

"What station is it?" Dean asked even as he grabbed the balloons and put them in his messenger bag. Nothing would stop a drug dog, but at least he could try.

"It's run by Captain Singer, you know, the one with the shitty narcotics department. Everything will be fine Dean. It's an incredibly light drop, just doing it for some friends. Get going and the pay will be worth it, as always."

"How did thinks go with Juan last night?" Dean asked. He had turned around and was facing the door, even as he asked. He was afraid to know the answer really, but he didn't want to be in the dark.

"Everything went stellar, I think we'll have the detectives following a dead trail for a while now." Lucifer explained and then Dean left the room, shutting the door heavily behind him.

He could do this, he could walk six blocks with two balloons of heroin in his bag, right in front of a police station.

He totally could.

Right?


End file.
